much harm
to the State of France as the goings on of the Protestants lent their
aid. This, however, has nothing to do with my story.

About this time the lord and lady of Bastarnay were invited by the
king to come to his town of Loches, where for the present he was with
his court, in which the beauty of the lady of Bastarnay had made a
great noise. Bertha came to Loches, received many kind praises from
the king, was the centre of the homage of all the young nobles, who
feasted their eyes on this apple of love, and of the old ones, who
warmed themselves at this sun. But you may be sure that all of them,
old and young, would have suffered death a thousand times over to have
at their service this instrument of joy, which dazzled their eyes and
muddled their brains. Bertha was more talked about in Loches then
either God or the Gospels, which enraged a great many ladies who were
not so bountifully endowed with charms, and would have given all that
was left of their honour to have sent back to her castle this fair
gatherer of smiles.

A young lady having early perceived that one of her lovers was smitten
with Bertha, took such a hatred to her that from it arose all the
misfortunes of the lady of Bastarnay; but also from the same source
came her happiness, and her discovery of the gentle land of love, of
which she was ignorant. This wicked lady had a relation who had
confessed to her, directly he saw Bertha, that to be her lover he
would be willing to die after a month's happiness with her. Bear in
mind that this cousin was as handsome as a girl is beautiful, had no
hair on his chin, would have gained his enemy's forgiveness by asking
for it, so melodious was his young voice, and was scarcely twenty
years of age.

"Dear cousin," said she to him, "leave the room, and go to your house;
I will endeavour to give you this joy. But do not let yourself be seen
by her, nor by that old baboon-face by an error of nature on a
Christian's body, and to whom belongs this beauteous fay."

The young gentleman out of the way, the lady came rubbing her
treacherous nose against Bertha's, and called her "My friend, my
treasure, my star of beauty"; trying every way to be agreeable to her,
to make her vengeance more certain on the poor child who, all
unwittingly, had caused her lover's heart to be faithless, which, for
women ambitious in love, is the worst of infidelities. After a little
conversation, the plotting lady suspected that poor Ber